


When the Dust Settles

by Siriusly3000



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, M/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 11:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusly3000/pseuds/Siriusly3000
Summary: The dust hadn't even settled when Bucky started running around, looking for Steve.





	When the Dust Settles

The dust hadn't even settled when Bucky started running around, looking for Steve.

He'd caught flashes of him during the battle - it would've been hard not to. Steve fought with everything he had - he fought with his heart out for all the world to see. Bucky saw him stand up to Thanos the same way he'd always stood up to bullies, because he'd always hated them and no matter how much time had passed, some things never changed. He felt sick to his stomach when that little punk - because no matter what the serum did, Steve would always be a little punk - tried to fend off Thanos with his shield in pieces, the same shield he'd given up for him, even though it was just as much a part of him as his bleeding heart was, not once, but twice. Bucky felt his heart clench when he had to look away and shoot a rogue Chitauri fighter in the head and then couldn't locate Steve when he glanced back, but he ground his teeth and soldiered on, because he wouldn't let Steve's efforts be in vain, no matter how much he wanted to find Steve and shield him from harm.

But then Tony wielded the gauntlet and snapped his fingers and the enemy started turning to dust, and at the back of his mind Bucky knew Tony would suffer and get hurt and he might even die, but he didn't - couldn't - spare another thought on the brave man, on the hero, because he had to look for Steve. He had to, he did. The thought that Steve might be in dire need of help was the only thing keeping him going; if he stopped for even a moment he knew that everything would catch up to him and the pain and the fear would cripple him so bad he would never be able to move again, so he had to keep going - for his own sake, for Steve’s sake – oh god was Steve alright was he hurt did he break a bone was he breathing okay was he alive was he alive was he alive was –

Steve stood so close to where Tony lay, where Pepper and Peter and Rhodes stood grieving him, and Bucky felt his heart break as he saw how these people who’d played brave heroes in Steve’s stories were reduced to shells of themselves, mourning the strong man Bucky had always known Tony was, the strong man he’d always remember Tony as, but then he thought of how close he’d come to being them, how close he’d come to losing Steve, and even though the thought made him feel dirty inside - like he was grateful it wasn’t him instead of them – Bucky had dealt with feeling like scum all his life, so he didn’t pay it any mind. What he did notice was how stiffly Steve stood, how bloody and dusty and grimy his face was, how taut the line of his shoulders was, and couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him.

“Steve,” he breathed, and Steve whipped his head around like he’d been struck. For a moment time ceased to move, and the only things that existed were Steve’s blue eyes and Steve’s dirty skin and Steve’s beating heart, and then the world came back into focus and Steve covered the few steps between them and crushed Bucky’s body so close to his own that Bucky could hear his shaky exhale in his ear and feel his frantic heartbeat keep pace with his own. Bucky hid Steve’s face in his shoulder and cradled his head tenderly, wishing he could shield him from all the pain he’d felt when Bucky wasn’t there to share it with him, when Bucky wasn’t there to steal it from him.

Steve let out a pained little “Bucky,” right before his shirt started growing damp, and Bucky willed himself to clench his eyes shut and breathe Steve in and feel him warm and safe and alive in his arms, but his efforts were in vain because as soon as Steve started sobbing, he did too. He pressed his mouth against Steve’s hair and cried with the man he loved more than he could ever hope to express till his eyes ached and his throat clogged up, and even then he didn’t let his hold on Steve falter, not for a second, because now that he had Steve back in his arms, clutching onto him like he never wanted to let go, Bucky wasn’t going to let anything, anybody, pull them apart – not Hydra, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not Captain America’s goddamn responsibilities. Bucky didn’t give a shit what anybody had to say about that. The man he was holding might’ve been some ideal, some idol, some inspiration to whoever wanted to draw inspiration from the idea of him, but to Bucky he would always be Steven Grant Rogers with sawdust in his stubborn head and gold in his stubborn heart, and he wasn’t going to leave him alone ever again.

“You said I was taking all the stupid with me, and yet here we are. Care to explain yourself, punk?” Bucky rasped, and heard Steve let out a wet little chuckle before he raised his head and looked at Bucky and pressed his lips to his own.

The kiss, the culmination of a century, the culmination of years of pain and blood and longing and love, was a chaste little thing, and it set off such a barrage of emotions in Bucky that he was crying again by the time they broke apart. He took one look at Steve’s face – the happiness in his eyes, the smile on his lips – and he knocked their foreheads together as gently as he could, their hands framing each other’s faces, their breaths mingling in the little space between them, and for the first time in so long, longer than he could care to remember, Bucky closed his eyes without an ounce of fear and let himself be.

“Thank you for coming back, Buck. I’m sorry I let you go, I’ll never let you go ever again.” Steve mumbled, and Bucky had so much to say to him, wanted so badly to thump Steve on the back of his neck for daring to blame himself, but in that moment all he could bring himself to say was, “I love you so much, Stevie.” And, as if he understood all that he was trying to say, Steve held him tighter, soft breath tickling Bucky’s skin, heartbeat matching the pace of his own, and murmured against his temple, “Me too, Buck. Me too.”

The dust finally settled around them.


End file.
